


Uninvited

by Too_Many_Seeds



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Dubious Elements, F/M, Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-15 01:59:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17520047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Too_Many_Seeds/pseuds/Too_Many_Seeds
Summary: Rook discovered that her soulmate - her destined other half - was the leader of a dangerous cult. Some deity had a sick sense of humour, it seemed.





	Uninvited

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Implied dubious elements that come with soulmate AUs. Explicit language. Mentions of death and violence.

The first time Rook saw her soulmate, she was being ordered to handcuff him. Ironically, prior to her rushed assignment to join in the arrest of fanatical cult leader Joseph Seed, she had been wondering whether her soulmate would elude her forever. 

Her birthday had recently passed, and when she’d left the surprise party - which had not actually been much of a surprise due to the Sheriff’s loose tongue - she’d lamented another year passed without the elusive promised partner that all were said to possess. These things took time, she knew, but she couldn’t help but think that time was leaving her hanging quite a lot. A blown-out candle carried her wish of the day to come sooner.

But when she finally stood across from the man destined to be her other half, she wondered if she should have wished for the opposite. 

“God will not let you take me,” he said, hands outstretched. 

The words burned as pinpricks on her forearm, draining the ink-like words of all colour now that they had finally been spoken. Had her skin been bared, she knew the marked words would be faded, blended like stretch marks as those who had met their destined proudly wore . 

She had frozen, heart racing and lips parted in a strange, bemused expression. A part of her even wanted to speak back to him; to say something that she knew would cause a similar reaction with him as her words resonated with his very soul, but nothing would come out. 

Rook knew that the Sheriff was watching her, could sense the confusion over her inaction. She could even feel the eyes of the visiting Marshal burning into her side, irritated and impatient. 

“Come  _ on,  _ Rookie,” the man - Burke, she vaguely remembered his name was - scowled. Instinctively, she wanted to step forward, slap the cuffs over the man’s wrists because someone had told her to - because an  _ authority figure _ had told her to. But she stayed herself at the last second, even though she still jerked in place. 

She turned to him, the movement jittery and her neck stiff and unwilling to move away from the man who was her soulmate - the man who hadn’t taken his eyes off her yet and was watching her intently. 

“No,” Rook told the Marshal, knowing it was safe to speak to him, at least. She swallowed quickly, hearing a click from the movement of her dry throat, and she took a step back, nearly barrelling into the Sheriff. “I-I don’t want to.” She glanced backwards at Whitehorse, expression earnest and eyes wide as she repeated, “I don’t want to.” 

Her internal pride recoiled at her words, hating how it would make her look the coward, hating how the three cultists standing on the podium behind their leader would be taking her retreat as a victory, but she swallowed the feeling. 

Rook took another glance at the cult leader, who had lowered his hands and was gazing openly at her, no less intensity than before but now tinged with curiosity, as though he wasn’t entirely sure why she hadn’t followed orders. His eyes narrowed, and she didn't like the hint of  _knowing_ that crept into his expression. She wanted to run away from it, run away from  _him_ immediately. 

She wondered at what a sight she made; undoubtedly frazzled and leaning towards the Sheriff for aid as though she were a little girl again, clutching at her mother’s skirts. 

The Sheriff, at least, took one look at her face and seemed to understand that something was very wrong. 

“Okay,” he said softly, nodding as a courtesy at Joseph Seed and his family while he turned to face the door. “We’ll go, then. Head back to the chopper, Rook.” 

She winced, the fact of her soulmate overhearing her name not sitting well with her but being unable to do anything about it. 

The Marshal was arguing with the Sheriff behind her, throwing around threats and incredulity but her boss, thankfully, wasn’t budging. She reached the front door, and felt her soulmate’s eyes trained onto her back while she made her way back to the chopper. 

As they flew away from the island, Rook traced her forearm, still covered by her uniform. Tuning out the arguing of the Marshal, she dug her fingers into the skin, as though she could scratch the words into nothing. 

She had officially met her soulmate, and now she wanted to do nothing more than curl up into a ball in the safety of her bed. 

In the one-bedroom apartment above the Spread Eagle, Rook surveyed herself in her mirror; clad only in her sports-bra and pyjama shorts. A day ago, the words across her arm had been ink-black, more tattoo in appearance than anything else. Now they had faded into her skin, more like the stretchmarks of her youth, marking her as one of the lucky ones who had met their fated beloved. 

It had been a warm night in Hope County, but she still threw on a sweater before going to bed. Out of sight, out of mind, as it were. 

The Marshal hadn’t been making empty threats. The office was tense the following day when he stalked back through their front doors with a posse of his superiors and more armed guard waiting outside on the street. He’d given her a stern stare as he passed her, making his way to the Sheriff’s office and disappearing inside. 

She sat at the receptionist’s desk, preemptively awaiting her summons. 

“I’m fucked,” Rook confessed to Pratt as he returned from the coffee run. “Totally fucked.” 

He placed a cup down on the receptionist’s table and then handed another to her before grimacing. 

“Yeah,” he replied, not beating around the bush. “Kind of think you are, Rook.” 

“You’re on probation already,” Hudson, who was leaning against the wall, reminded her grimly. She scoffed, shaking her head. “Fuck, you should have just done it.” 

“Why  _ didn’t  _ you do it?” Nancy, the receptionist, leaned forward, smiling to try and put her at ease even though her concern was palpable. “Was there something wrong?” 

Rook gave a breathy laugh. 

“What  _ wasn’t  _ wrong about that whole situation?” She asked, unable to hide her indignation. “They were armed to the teeth and weren’t going to look kindly on us taking their leader; we would never have made it out alive... and besides, you said it yourself!” She gestured towards Hudson, who raised an eyebrow at her. “I’m a Rookie, I’m on probation! Why was it up to  _ me  _ to arrest the dangerous cult leader?” 

She was babbling, she knew - a nervous trait she’d never quite been able to outgrow - but she personally thought they were valid arguments. They were also the same arguments she’d spent the previous night preparing, anticipating that there was going to be hell to pay for her disobedience. 

“Still think you just should’ve done it,” Pratt muttered, but patted her shoulder in a mute form of camaraderie as he passed - definitely surprising her. She hadn’t thought he’d been particularly fond of her at all prior to this. 

Hudson grunted in agreement as she turned away, heading back to her own desk. Nancy leaned forward again, holding up her coffee cup in a silent and almost commiserating cheers. 

“For what it’s worth,” the older woman said in a stage whisper, “I think you made the right choice.” 

Rook tried to smile, but it was more of a grimace.

“Thanks,” she replied, and felt her stomach drop as she heard the Sheriff’s door open. “But I don’t think  _ they’re  _ going to agree with you.” 

Exactly a day ago, the thought of lying to a group of stony-faced officials about her conduct would have been abhorrent, but once she’d started, it came easily. She answered their questions as close to the truth as she could manage, and tried to avoid gritting her teeth as she deliberately left out all mention of her soulmark. 

As far as they knew, she’d been put under pressure and simply frozen up, unable to rise to the occasion. 

“And there’s nothing else?” One of the officials asked her, and while she couldn’t quite figure out exactly what he was thinking, she had the vague sense that the superiors were not particularly impressed with her. “No missing details?” 

Her heart raced just a little bit faster. 

“Nothing else,” she answered, the words sour in her mouth, and after a quick beat added, “Sir.” 

The Sheriff, who had said little throughout her interview, dismissed her for a lunch break with a weary nod. 

Sitting at the outdoor table of the Spread Eagle, waiting on some fries, Rook scrolled through her phone with little interest. She was focused more on the bouncing of her leg, on the grating sounds of cars rumbling by and chatter from the busy bar and the nausea inside her stomach. 

She didn’t hear him approach. 

“Deputy!” 

She jolted, whipping her head to the side to see one of the men from the church. He was too-slick, hair smoothed back and wearing finely-made clothes that practically made her  _ smell  _ money. He was smiling at her, suave and welcoming but too sharp for her comfort. 

“Hello,” she replied reservedly, visibly eyeing him up and down. 

“John Seed,” he answered her unasked question, gesturing to himself. “Curious to see you here, I must confess.” 

She raised an eyebrow, and pointedly glanced to the very obvious police station across the road. 

“Is it?” She asked flatly. 

Something wasn’t right at all, not with his presence, not with his attitude; there was a game afoot, and she didn’t know the rules. 

He followed her line of sight and chuckled. 

“My mistake,” John said, sitting down opposite her without invitation. She raised her eyebrows but said nothing, even as he leaned forward. “I must confess my curiosity, Deputy. It’s not exactly normal for an officer of the law to refuse an arrest - a  _ direct  _ order too, I might add.” He hummed, eyes bright even while he feigned a sense of casualness, reclining back in his chair. “Forgive me for saying, but I didn’t think you were the type to let something like that go so easily.” 

“Oh?” She took the bait. “And what type  _ do  _ I look like, then?” 

His eyes narrowed.

“Someone... _ proud,”  _ John replied, and she felt the word held more weight than it should have. “Someone who thinks  _ they  _ know best.” He gave her a deliberate once-over and smiled a little wider. “Someone who would fight fate itself if they thought they deserved... better.” 

The politeness seeped right out her, and her heart began to race. A cold prickle of dread crept up her stomach as she stared at him, questions flurrying through her mind. Did he know?  _ How  _ did he know? She hadn’t even told the Sheriff, let alone anyone else. 

She breathed in deeply, steeling herself as she smiled back at him in a mask. There was no possible way he could have known, he was just trying to unnerve her, she knew. 

“That’s awfully presumptuous of you,” Rook calmly said, setting her phone down on the table and clasping her hands together on her lap. “Considering you don’t even know my name.” 

Something about his replying grin unsettled her. 

“You know, Deputy,” he began, smile wide and flashing a hint of a canine, “last year, reports showed that over seventy percent of soulmate marks were found on the  _ forearm _ .” 

Her smile fell from her mouth, but she caught herself from reacting any further, trying to freeze in place so that she gave no response. 

_ He’s just baiting you,  _ she thought, gritting her teeth.  _ Don’t give him what he wants.  _

He leaned forward again, elbows pressing on the table. 

“Isn’t it funny, Deputy,” he said, eyes flicking up to meet hers, intense and sharp, “that when my brother spoke, you kept looking at your forearm?” He wasn’t smiling anymore. “And you didn’t say a _word_ to him... I wonder why that is.” 

If it were quieter in the open street, she would have worried that he’d be able to hear her heartbeat, as loudly pounding as it was. 

“I froze up,” Rook replied, swallowing heavily and adamantly meeting his gaze. “It happens.” She glanced back towards the police station across the road. “And now I’m facing the consequences for it.” 

He followed her gaze again and hummed, leaning back in his seat and allowing the polite facade to smooth back onto his features. 

“I see,” John murmured, something thoughtful in his expression. Coming to a decision, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a card, sliding it across the table towards her. “A courtesy, Deputy. Should those consequences be too severe...you can give me a call.” 

She turned the card over and raised an eyebrow. 

“A lawyer?” She read, and chuckled. “Of course you are.” He was standing now, easing the chair back into place. “And what would your price be?” 

His smile was too smooth. 

“Don’t think of that,” he replied, waving dismissively as he stepped away from the table. “I don’t charge family.” His grin was wide as he began to walk away. “Good luck, Deputy.” 

He left her there, heart pounding with his card in hand. 

Even when she was summoned back into the interview room, the officials having agreed to set aside her issue until the following day, her mind couldn’t focus. John Seed was irritatingly observant, and it set off a spark of worries. Had he told his brother? Did Joseph Seed - her destined soulmate and alleged beloved - know that she had walked away from him? She’d seen him gauge out a man’s eyes on video, what would he do to a soulmate who’d openly rejected his bond? 

“It’s not looking good, Rook,” Whitehorse said, and wasn’t that the understatement of the year? It was late evening and they were crowded in the break-room, mood morose and tense. 

The afternoon had given them no good news, with the Marshal and his men having left to follow up on the arrest order that  _ she  _ had failed to fulfil. Her soulmate was to be brought to the station temporarily, the Sheriff had said, but she wondered how long he would be there. The namecard of John Seed burned in her trouser pocket, and Hudson and Pratt had been more than willing to tell her all about how he’d managed to get multiple charges dropped on various members of that cult.

If her soulmate was successfully brought in, something told her that he wasn’t going to be held for long.  _ One way or the other _ , she thought with a shudder, remembering the heavily-armed guards that had surrounded the compound. 

“What’s taking them so long?” Pratt asked, tapping his foot on the ground. He’d been pacing back and forth for the better half of the past hour. “Shouldn’t they be back by now?” 

“Sit down, Pratt,” Whitehorse said from the coffee table. The ordered pizza they’d shared for dinner was cold now in front of him, and he leaned forward and shut the lid over the top of it. “Nancy’s manning the radio; she’ll tell us if we’re needed.” 

“But what if something’s gone wrong?” Pratt replied, peering through the blinds at the deserted main street as though he expected someone to come at any second.

Rook wanted to laugh at that. Clearly, everything was very wrong. Her soulmate possibly knew of her existence, he was going to be brought into the station in cuffs, and she wasn’t sure if she’d still have a job come the following day. It really didn’t feel like it was going to get much worse than that. 

“Just sit  _ down,  _ Pratt,” Whitehorse said again wearily. “It’s going to be a long day tomorrow. Just...just sit down and wait for them to come back.” 

They didn’t come back. 

Another hour had passed, marking it officially midnight, when Nancy opened the break-room door. She was frazzled, dark marks under her eyes indicating a lack of sleep they all shared, and her gaze flickered between the small group with jittery movements of her jaw. 

They landed on Rook. 

“They’re taking Joseph Seed to Missoula,” she announced, voice hoarse. 

Hudson sighed, tilting her head back in relief.

“Well, that’s a good thing, yeah?” She said, arm coming to rest on the back of the couch. “I mean, we’ve kind of got our own jail, but still, good riddance, I’ll say.” 

Nancy didn’t smile. 

“They just called,” she continued, not taking her eyes off Rook. “They want you to see him.” 

All three of Rook’s colleagues stood to attention at that. 

“What?” The Sheriff rose to his feet, frowning. “They want Rook to see him?”    
“What the fuck for?” Hudson hissed, voice pitching slightly. 

Nancy sighed, shaking her head. 

“Said they wanted her to face him,” she explained, sounding strangely tired. “A learning experience for her, they said. To help…well, to make sure she wouldn’t ‘freeze’ again.” 

“This is ridiculous,” Pratt muttered, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. 

“Do they seriously have their heads so far up their asses?” Hudson said, and glanced at the Sheriff. “Is this actually allowed?” 

The Sheriff was looking at Rook, who had been silent during their protests. If she were calmer, their defense of her might have warmed her heart, but in that instant, all of her thoughts were directed to her own fear. 

Sitting in her cosy little armchair, knees bouncing in a nervous tic, Rook wondered if she were one of the only people in the world who wished to run away from seeing their soulmate. 

“You’re not going alone,” Whitehorse announced, reaching for his hat and plopping it on his head. 

Rook stared up at him, eyes wide. 

“Sheriff,” Nancy stepped forward, “You’re already in enough strife for last night, are you sure you want to provoke them further?” 

“She’s my Deputy,” he replied, firm as he turned to face Rook. “And I got you into this mess.” He gestured towards the door. “I’ll be right next to you, Rookie. Won’t leave your side.” 

Somehow, she managed to stand up and walk next to him to the door, though her legs were shaking furiously. Hudson and Pratt both gave her a pat on her back for good luck, though both were still grumbling about the ridiculousness of the situation and as she left, she even caught the end of Hudson saying something about ‘power-tripping assholes'. 

The Sheriff took the wheel, and she was glad of it; unsure if her hands were going to cooperate long enough for driving. Nancy had reported that they were holding her soulmate at the jail temporarily, just until she’d had the chance for “exposure therapy”, she supposed. 

The ride was silent, the roads deserted in the late night. They didn’t even see another car until they passed Lorna’s; where Rook was so distracted that she barely noticed it pull out from the gas station after they’d safely passed by. It was surreal, staring at the road in front of them and thinking that with every second, it was another handful of metres fewer between her and her soulmate. The man who was to be her beloved other half. 

“It’ll be short and sharp, Rook,” Whitehorse interrupted the silence, though he sounded like he was half speaking to himself. “Over and done with quickly. I promise.” 

She nodded but said nothing as they pulled into the jail driveway, eyeing the cars parked in the drive. She recognised them from when they’d been parked in the street earlier that day, and she grimaced as she saw one of the armed guards come out to greet them. 

He’d been beside the Marshal earlier, when Burke had walked back into the office reeking of self-assuredness, but at least he’d apparently been a local before, smiling at Nancy and shaking the Sheriff’s hand. 

“Glad you could make it,” he said by way of greeting, staring at her. “Come right this way.” 

“This is going to be done quickly,” Whitehorse insisted, addressing the man more than her. “And she’s not going to be going in alone.” 

The official glanced over his shoulder and looked at the sheriff as though he had just realised that he was there too. 

“No,” the official replied, almost exasperated, it seemed. “Of course she’s not going to be alone.” 

_ Well, small mercies _ , Rook thought with a grimace.

Her head was so clouded with her own worries that she nearly missed it. As they were approaching the office, her eyes were trained to the tiled floor; watching her shadow bounce with her steps. They made their way past reception and her gaze passed idly over everything, until a single image made her stop in place. 

The Sheriff continued on for a few steps until he noticed her absence and stared back at her. 

“Rook?” He asked, concerned and likely wondering whether he was getting a repeat of the previous night. 

But she wasn’t listening, instead focused on the small pile of cylindrical shapes pushed to the side of the nearby bookstand - almost as though someone had made a half-hearted attempt to hide them. 

“Is there a problem, Deputy?” The official asked her, sighing and wondering what her issue was now. 

She stared at him.

“Yeah,” she replied, feeling something like an anvil dropping in her stomach. “Can I ask why you’ve got used bullet casings on the reception floor?” 

The Sheriff frowned at her words and followed her pointing finger, eyebrows rising as he turned to the official, who was silent. 

There was a beat of silence. 

“It’s a prison,” the official said, as though it were obvious. “Incidents happen.” 

“Without reporting it?” Whitehorse shook his head. He stepped towards Rook, his other hand falling to his belt, suspiciously close to his weapon. “What’s going on here?” 

Her heart was racing a mile a minute, and she whipped her head around at the sound of footsteps. The receptionist had left her desk and was standing by a chair, watching carefully. Rook heard the front door open again, and all at once she remembered the truck that had followed them after they’d passed Lorna’s. How it had  _trailed_ them to the jail.

“Sheriff,” she hissed, reaching out to grab at his shoulder. “We need to leave.” 

Whitehorse looked at her, seeing the worry in her eyes that mirrored her expression from the previous night . 

“I’m afraid that’s not happening, Deputy.” A new voice spoke up, and her stomach sank as she looked towards the office to see the familiar figure of John Seed stepping out into the hallway. 

And behind him walked her soulmate. 

There was a lump in her throat as she met eyes with Joseph Seed. There was no trace of anger in him, nothing judgemental or condemning of what must appear to be her rejection of him. Instead, he was calm, focused and inviting as he smiled ever-so-slightly at her. 

“Thank you for coming,” he said, and something inside her ached at his voice. It seemed to almost smooth over her jagged edges, calming the roiling unease she felt at the situation. “I am sorry to bring you here under false pretenses, however.” 

She hung onto every word - a traitorous part of her wanting him to continue talking so she could keep hearing him - and perhaps it was the close proximity of her soulmate or even just a natural charisma that he held, but something inside her, something tied to her very being, wanted to lean towards him. She wanted to reach out, to  _ touch  _ him - to touch her soulmate - and be held in his arms. That was what fate wanted, was it not? 

Was it really so bad to want that too? 

She gulped audibly, watching him as a deer in the headlights as he stepped towards her. The Sheriff made to move forward, to block her from the cult leader’s path, but an imposing man in a camo-jacket quickly intercepted him - pushing him back with a firm and warning hand. 

“Don’t bother,” the scarred man said, low but calm. 

Joseph Seed reached her, and she realised with a jolt that she hadn’t even considered running from him. Shamefully, she didn’t think she wanted to. 

His hands moved to her sides, gently brushing her upper arms and settling on her shoulders. Rook almost shuddered at his touch, wondering if it was just her shock that made her want to lean into it, or whether it was a reaction of her very soul, sensing its other half. 

He looked down at her, eyes impossibly soft but expectant. They were still for a few moments, his hands on her and her frozen in place, unable and unsure if she even  _ wanted  _ to move. His brow creased slightly, not in displeasure but concern.

“Will you not speak to me?” Joseph asked softly, tracing his thumb against her covered shoulder. “Will you not address your soulmate?” 

Oh, that was right. He wanted her to speak. His words, wherever they were, needed to fade as she spoke them; needed to confirm what they already both knew. 

But she glanced to the side, seeing the Sheriff. His eyes were closed, having heard what her soulmate had said and putting the pieces together in his mind - her freeze-up the previous day and everything since. 

Following her gaze, Joseph hummed.

“Jacob, will you release the Sheriff?” He asked, and the brother - Jacob Seed, she remembered suddenly from the file - shook his head but reluctantly stepped away from her boss. Whitehorse looked like he very much wanted to move towards her, to grab her and drag her away from this mess, but Joseph held out a hand. “Please. I wish your Deputy no harm...and I imagine she would prefer I wish you none, either.” 

She stiffened at that, pulling away from Joseph and eyeing him warily. He stared at her expectantly, wondering whether her sudden movement was preceding her finally saying something to him, but she bit down on her lip and kept her mouth shut. Even though she  _ wanted  _ to speak, partially out of a desire to tell him not to harm her friends but also out of a strange sense of wanting to solidify their soulmate bond. 

She was silent. 

His smile was almost sad, even though he had little right to be, as he glanced to his younger brother, the too-smooth lawyer by the office door. 

“John, you have enough room in your gate for three more, yes?” He asked, gesturing to the Sheriff and she assumed referring to Pratt and Hudson. 

“I do,” the brother answered curtly, giving her a side glance that gave her the distinct impression that he wasn’t particularly pleased with her - likely due to her silence. 

Joseph nodded, returning his eyes to her.

“I will not have my soulmate be bereft of her family,” he said, by way of explanation. He straightened up somewhat, placing a hand at her upper back and coaxing her forward, towards the office. “Come; we have some things we need to talk about, you and I.” 

She saw Jacob Seed push the Sheriff towards the entrance door, away from her and she panicked, lurching forwards.

“Sheriff!” She called out, rushing over to him. Jacob Seed turned slightly to look at her, eyebrow raised but unconcerned while his younger brother put his hand on her shoulder.    
“Don’t worry,” Joseph tried to soothe her, turning her to face him. “He’s just going to my brother’s bunker. You can see him and your friends tomorrow, if that is what you’d wish.” 

She wanted to hiss something back at him and very nearly did, but managed to bite her lip at the last minute. Instead, she deliberately looked at John Seed over her soulmate’s shoulder and gritted out a reply. 

“ _ John,”  _ Rook slowly said, stressing his name as the recipient. “I want the Sheriff and my friends left alone.” 

John’s face contorted in fury at her underhand tactics to avoid the soulmark bond. 

“Address the Father yourself, you conniving”- He began, but was cut off.

“ _ John _ .” Joseph’s voice was warning and soothing all at once, as he held up a hand to his brother and gave him a smile. “It’s alright.” He looked at her again, expression unreadable. “My soulmate can address me when she wishes.” 

The Sheriff was taken from the jail, headed to a ‘gate’ along with her friends, and she found herself sitting opposite her soulmate in the office. The lights were dimmed - one having blown recently, she suspected - leaving them in more gloom than she would have found preferable. 

“I will not make you speak,” Joseph told her, soft but something almost sad in his voice. “It may sadden me, but this is not something that can be forced.” He pushed a procured notepad and pen across the table towards her. “I understand you must have questions.” 

She glared at the thing for a few moments, before begrudgingly taking the pen and furiously writing out her words. 

_ Where is the Sheriff?  _

“Taken to my brother’s bunker in the west of the valley,” Joseph answered immediately and honestly. 

She frowned. 

_ Bunker?  _

He sighed, and reached a hand up to thumb at the folded glasses hanging from his shirt collar. 

“A great calamity will soon wipe away the world as we know it,” he began, soft but without a shred of doubt. “God will erase the corrupt and the sinful and we will start anew. He has given me a task; to gather the faithful and keep them from harm.” He leaned forward, covering her hand with his own, expression earnest and frightening. “The bunkers will be our shelter for seven years, and then we can emerge into the new Eden.” 

Her heart was racing as her soulmate raved on about his prophecy. He didn’t seem to be lying at all; every word he said, she sensed that he genuinely believed. He thought God spoke to him. He thought the murder of innocents was justified. He thought that he was _s_ _ aving  _ people. 

His eyes were almost manic despite his outward calm as his fingers clenched around her hand. 

“I will never force you to speak to me,” Joseph promised, smiling with a hint of sadness as though he had any right to it, “nor will I make you acknowledge our bond if you don’t wish it.” He paused, narrowing his eyes slightly. “But I will not leave you to the righteous fires, either.” 

_ You’re taking me to a bunker? _ She wrote, unable to stop herself from glaring at him. 

He stiffened, taking his hand away from hers and leaning backwards, relaxed but somehow still poised in his chair. 

“Not yet,” he answered simply, folding his hands in his lap. “This evening, your Marshal and his colleagues attempted arrest set off the Reaping, and though we managed to use our insiders in their force to our advantage and subdue them, the Collapse is still not far behind. We will take what we need for the Faithful to survive the years below ground and we will save those who deserve salvation.” He smiled at her again, perhaps thinking it was a reassuring expression. “This will be a dangerous time, and I would prefer to keep you with me at my compound until the time comes for us to enter the bunkers.” 

This was just absolutely fantastic. Not only was her soulmate a cult leader, but he was also convinced that he spoke to God and was justified in committing heinous crimes. Good lord, what sickly humorous deity decided to pair such a man with a police officer? 

He was staring down at her arm, which was resting on the table with the pen in hand, ready to write out a response if necessary. She followed his gaze - strangely realising that she didn’t feel any aversion to his eyes on her - and found herself looking at her forearm. 

Slowly, as though giving her the option to move and reject him, he leaned forward; reaching out until his fingers brushed the area of her forearm where the words lay underneath her uniform. 

“Was John right?” Joseph asked, eyes soft as his touch felt like pinpricks of fire even through the clothing. “Is it here?” 

She reached out, covering his hand with her own and sighing at the feeling of his skin against her; the sensation calling out to something inside her, soulful and greedy. 

“May I see it?” He asked again, voice warm and making her want to melt into him. 

Rook reached for her sleeve, pausing for a moment. This would confirm it for him, she knew. Even if she never spoke a word to him in her life, he would always know they were destined. 

She rolled her sleeve up, baring the faded words on her skin as she watched his reaction. His lips parted, a soft, almost silent gasp leaving him as his fingers pressed against the words. She breathed in deeply at the touch, swallowing a laugh as he traced the letters and made her squirm at the ticklish sensation. He pulled away, muttering an apology but unable to help the amused quirk of his lip. 

“Thank you,” he told her, genuine and eyeing the words on her arm for the brief few seconds before she pulled her sleeve back down. 

There was a beat of silence, and she fiddled with the pen in her hand; curiosity burning at her and making her finally write down her question. 

_ What does mine say?  _ She asked, slowly showing him the notepad. 

“You want to know what to avoid saying?” He replied, smiling in amusement. 

She scowled, scrawling out an irritated response. 

_ Fine, I don’t need to know if you’re going to be a dick about it.  _ She gave him a second to read her words, feeling a thrill of victory as his eyebrows rose at her crude language, before she hurriedly wrote the final, most important words.  _ Fuck you.  _

To her surprise, he laughed. The sound was pleasant, and she should have hated how it made her want to shut her eyes and listen to it again and again. 

“I’ve already told you the words,” Joseph admitted, leaning back in his chair calmly once more, but never taking his eyes off her. “Inadvertently.” He smiled, noticing her confused expression and began to quietly say the familiar sentence from the previous night. “I saw when the Lamb opened the first seal…” 

Her heart began to speed up, as she suddenly remembered the words written on his torso that matched his speech. They were not the only worded tattoos he carried, however, and so she had not been certain whether they were the ones she needed to avoid. 

But she knew which ones he meant now, and what to say in order to embrace her soulmate. To fulfil the yearning inside her; to allow the warmth of finally recognising one’s fated beloved; to give him the gift of confirmation that he had given her. 

“And I heard, as it were the noise of thunder” he continued, unaware of the turmoil of choice she was feeling, “one of the four beasts say”-

Rook felt her mouth open.

“Come and see,” she said, words cracking somewhat from disuse. 

Joseph paused, a hand rushing to his side where she remembered the words lay on his skin. He sighed, and she knew he was feeling the rush of relief sweep over him; the absolute confirmation that he was right, and that they were together. 

He looked up at her, a warm smile pulling at his lips but as he tried to speak, she interrupted him once more.

“No, I’ve listened to you, and now you get to listen to me,” Rook said firmly, setting the pen down and leaning back in her chair, crossing her legs and leaning on the armrests as though it were a throne and she a queen of all wild things. “I am your soulmate, but I am not your follower. I do not condone your crime, and I will not sit idly by while you hurt the people I am sworn to protect.” 

There was a sadness in his eyes at her words, and it sent a pang of fury through her; for what right did he have to be  _ sad  _ when it was he who was causing the rift between them? 

“I’m going to give you a choice, _beloved_ ,” she spoke the endearment with the slightest hint of sarcasm, and saw his wince as a victory. “You will kill nobody else in this county, do you understand me? You are not God, Joseph Seed, and you do not get to judge who deserves salvation or not. You will not kill them, you will not harm them and you will not steal from them.” 

“That’s not possible,” he said, soft and regretful.

“Then you will have to kill your soulmate,” Rook replied immediately, no hint of hesitation. The thought of it, of testing a man who had already proven himself so dangerous should have terrified her, but there was instead only a cold sense of resolve. “Are you going to be able to live with yourself after that?” 

He flinched, and looked away from her, staring adamantly at the door. Everyone knew the horror stories of what happened to those who brought harm upon their soulmates; the pain they endured as a punishment from the universe for defying it so.

“Would you?” Joseph finally replied, raising an eyebrow at her. A chill rushed over her. 

_ No _ , she thought but said nothing. She didn’t need to; they both knew neither of them would defy fate like that and reap its consequences. 

“I will call for the unwilling to be spared,” Joseph relented, tapping his finger thoughtfully against the table with a surprisingly hardened expression on his face. “But I will not interfere with their defending themselves should they face opposition. Nor will I stop them from taking what we need to survive.” 

He stood, even while she scowled at him. 

“That’s not the deal,” Rook insisted, and stood up in protest as he made his way to the door. “Hey! That’s not the deal.” 

“It will have to be,” Joseph replied calmly, hand on the doorknob. He paused, turning to face her and gesturing her to come closer. She scoffed, wanting to throw the notepad at him but deciding to humour him in this. She stepped towards him and he clutched at her shoulders, anchoring her in front of him and staring down at her. “Give me a week, Deputy. One week, that is all I ask.” 

She squinted suspiciously at him, unsure what his game was, and opened her mouth to question him further but it was his turn to interrupt her. 

“One week with as peaceful conduct as I can order my family to show; one week of collecting what we need...and one week with you at my side,” Joseph continued, eyes softening as he traced his finger back and forth against her arm instinctively. “One week, and then, should you still wish it, I will stop everything. I will give back all that we had taken and I will turn myself into the authorities.” He paused, breathing in deeply with his eyes shut before staring down at her with a smile that somehow told her that he doubted it would come to that. “One week... is all I ask.” 

It wasn’t the best deal, but something told her it was all she was going to get him to agree to. 

“Fine,” Rook gritted out, narrowing her eyes at him. “But if I find out that you have gone back on your word - if I find out that your people are pillaging and killing - then so help me God, I will make you regret it.” 

There was no amusement in his eyes. 

“I believe you,” he replied, and she knew there was no dishonesty between them in this. 

“One week,” she said, eyes sharp and warning.

He nodded.

“One week,” he confirmed, and she allowed herself to be led out to a chopper at his side with his promise in mind. 

Come the week’s end, when the world was raining fire around them, the promise would be forgotten, as she would rest safely within her soulmate’s arms in the sanctuary of his creation. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! <3


End file.
